Disco Stick
by ArmagonAuthor
Summary: Dean doesn't like Sam's music. Sam doesn't like Dean's attitude. Sam proposes a solution, but soon wishes that he hadn't. - A comedic oneshot for those who need a short break from angst.


"Sam, what the hell is this?!"

_Oh God, kill me now._

Sam winced at Dean's voice behind him penetrated the silence of his comfortable space in front of his laptop. He pulled the headphones from his ears, turning around in his chair before the table slightly and raising his eyebrows questioningly at his big brother. Dean had that look on his face, the one that said he was pissed and about two seconds from throwing punches left and right.

"What is _what_? Dude what's your problem?" Sam stood up ungratefully, both taken aback by this unexpected attack and wanting to be ready when and if Dean started swinging.

"_This_!" Dean raised his hand angrily, holding something too close to Sam's face for his eyes to catch what it was. He backed up a step or two, and saw that it was his ipod.

"Uh…"Sam couldn't help the sarcastic smile that graced his features. "That's called an 'Ipod.' Never seen one before?"

"Yes, I've seen a freaking Ipod before!" Dean not only seemed angry now, but just downright worried. It made no sense. "It's what's on the Ipod that I'm worried about!"

_My God, Dean's finally gone and lost his marbles._ Sam ran a hand over his face tiredly, wishing he could just get back to his research. "Music. I keep _music_ on my Ipod, Dean."

"No, you don't! This isn't music, Sam. It's…"Dean turned to look at the tiny words on the screen, scrunching up his face in concentration so hard that it was almost comical. "Linkin Park, whatever the hell that means. Dude, I went through this thing! It's like…emo and country and freaking pop! There isn't a single classic rock song _on_ this thing!"

"Well actually," Sam grabbed the Ipod out of Dean's shaking hands and scrolled down the list of song's that his brother had managed to find. "I think 'Back in Black' in on here somewhere…."

Dean made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, almost like he was choking or about to cry. Sam tried not to laugh. "Dude… _Everyone_ has 'Back in Black' on their Ipods! Twelve-year-old girls have 'Back in Black' on their Ipods! That doesn't count."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't!" Dean poked Sam in the chest almost as if he were giving a lecture on bad behavior. "Sam, you need _help_."

_Just kill me already... _Sam rolled his eyes for a second, swatting away Dean's hand. "Whatever Dean, just give me the Ipod and leave me alone."

"NO!" Dean clutched the Ipod to his chest like he was protecting a baby. "Sammy, I'm not letting you poison your mind with all this crap! I'm going to get you help, I promise."

Sam sighed. Then he sighed again. Hell, he would have sighed one more time if it felt natural enough. "Dean… Have you even listened to the music on my Ipod before?"

Dean looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped, his mouth partially open and his hands still wrapped tightly around the little Ipod. It was a sight that would make anyone laugh. To top it all off, Sam would have thought Dean even blushed. "Well… no… But still Sammy, I know what's best" –

"You can't judge until you've heard it. And I don't wanna hear any of your 'big brother knows best' crap either."

Sighing, Dean got this indignant look on his face and did everything but stick out his tongue. "Fine. I will. And then we'll see who has real taste in music and who needs to listen to genuine advice when he hears it, now wont we?"

"Sure Dean," Sam rolled his eyes, going back to his laptop. "Whatever you say. Just give it back when you're done."

The next morning, Sam rolled all of his stuff into a tight enough ball to shove back into his suitcase, throwing his duffel over his shoulder and joining his brother at the open trunk of the Impala. "Hey Dean…" Sam patted down his jacket and jean pockets absentmindedly, throwing the suitcase into the trunk. "Have you seen my Ipod? You didn't forget to give it back, did you?"

Dean looked up from his own duffel, feigning confusion for a second before clearing his throat and shutting the trunk. He started to make his way around to the driver's side. "Well about that Sam… I was meaning to talk to you this morning. I did some, uh… work last night."

Sam, who had been on his way to his own side of the car, stopped cold. "You changed my playlist, didn't you!?"

Dean shook his head, still not meeting Sam's eyes. "No."

"Did you loose it?"

"No."

"Did you… _break_ it?"

"No."

"Than… Well what the hell, Dean? Where's my Ipod?"

Dean didn't respond, but just looked away, getting into the car with a sigh. Sam hurried into his own door, turning to glare at his brother openly as he started the car. Suddenly, music blasted into the small confined space so loudly that Sam almost covered his ears with his hands.

"_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick. I wanna take a ride on you're disco stick. Don't think…"_

_You've_ got_ to be kidding me, _Sam stared at his brother in shock, before moving his eyes to the dash of the Impala, where Dean had "duched up" his precious car by re-installing the Ipod jack.

"…_that kick. I wanna take a ride on you're disco stick. Let's play a lovegame, play a lovegame. Do you want love, or you want fame? Are you in…"_

Suddenly Dean was chuckling softly under his breath, a huge smirk on his face. "Haha…This chick's awesome. Disco stick… "

_Oh God,_ Sam turned back to the dash, trying to pretend he wasn't seeing this. _Kill me now…_


End file.
